


what he needs

by sinspiration



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Mild Blood, Service Top, Swoops is one I mean, this is really just an excuse to have Kent be loved on
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-24
Updated: 2018-04-24
Packaged: 2019-04-27 01:45:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14414982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinspiration/pseuds/sinspiration
Summary: Swoops watches from across the ice as Kent makes a beautiful goal, hitting the puck into the topside of the net and then, moments later, getting slammed into by Thompson. He watches the stick hit him, watches as Kent falls to the ice, watches, as Kent shakily kneels up, the blood spilling out onto the ice, pouring from his face.





	what he needs

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this a while ago but just found it again and liked it. So might as well share it, right?

Swoops watches from across the ice as Kent makes a beautiful goal, hitting the puck into the topside of the net and then, moments later, getting slammed into by Thompson. He watches the stick hit him, watches as Kent falls to the ice, watches, as Kent shakily kneels up, the blood spilling out onto the ice, pouring from his face. He's too far away, but Scraps is close and he goes at Thompson while Kent skates off the ice to get looked over.

At least he can skate off.

There's a lot of blood. They have to salt the ice down.

Swoops grits his teeth and plays.

The relief when Kent comes back, even if it's just to sit on the bench, is palpable. It's not the cleanest game, but they do win and that's what matters.

Kent's waiting when they all skate off, and fields questions easily, brushing off the check. Like he always does.

"Verdict?" Swoops asks quietly, before anyone else can.

"Split open my forehead," Kent shrugs. "Five stitches, looks worse than it was. You know head wounds bleed like crazy."

"Anything else?" Swoops tries to keep his voice from shaking. The other guys are all watching them now, quiet, letting Swoops talk.

"Just a headache, but I downed some stuff. No concussion."

"Good, that's... good."

Kent must hear something, must see the way Swoops hands are shaking in his clenched fists, because Kent comes a little closer.

"Are  _ you  _ okay?"

Swoops tries to breathe, tries to banish the image of Kent on the red, red ice. "Not really," he admits.

Kent's eyes flickers to the rest of the group before they land back on Swoops. "Want me to come over tonight?"

Yes. "No, you need to rest. Maybe--" 

Kent rolls his eyes. "It's five stitches. I'll maybe get a Harry Potter scar. It's no big deal."

"I--" Swoops is conflicted. He does want Kent. He, he needs--

"Hey," Kent says quietly, touching his arm. "It's okay. Go get changed. I'll be waiting at your place."

He touches all of them, hands on shoulders, on backs, before he leaves, and Swoops holds onto that, that Kent is safe, that he'll be waiting for Swoops, that nothing really went wrong.

 

-

 

Kent isn't downstairs when Swoops gets home, but he has a text on his phone that Kent is upstairs and that Swoops better not come up until he eats something, so Swoops takes the time to make and devour a sandwich, finish half a bottle of Gatorade. Then he's taking the stairs two at a time, stopping in the doorway of his bedroom where Kent is waiting.

"Hey," Kent smiles, looking up at him and setting his phone down on the side table. He's wearing one of Swoops' shirts and nothing else, the white bandage on his forehead stark against his blond hair. "Did you eat?"

"Yeah," Swoops says, crossing over to the bed and gathering Kent up in his arms. He breathes Kent in, as arms come to warm around him, holding on just tight enough. 

"I'm okay," Kent says again. "I'm okay."

"I--can I--"

"Yeah," said freely, easily. "Whatever you need."

Swoops takes one last deep breath, kisses the side of Kent's neck, and then stands up, tugging Kent off the bed and leading him to the bathroom.

The bath is already filled, water slightly steaming.

Swoops can't help kissing Kent again. "I'm trying to take care of you," he says against Kent's mouth. "And here you are taking care of me."

"Give and take," Kent says, voice breathy as Swoops presses kisses under his ear, along his jaw, bites gently at the join of his neck and shoulder. "I figured it'd--it'd be what you needed."

Swoops takes his mouth one more time before running his hands up Kent's stomach, underneath the shirt, just spending time stroking up the planes of his stomach, his chest, as Kent shudders. Eventually Swoops pulls the shirt off, then shucks his own clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor. "Come on," he says.

Kent settles into the bathtub and Swoops gets in behind him, Kent sighing a little and leaning back against Swoops' chest. 

Swoops takes his time washing Kent thoroughly, soaping up and then rinsing him off, being achingly gentle when he runs the washcloth over his face, washes Kent's hair, making sure avoids the bandage.

He changes it again anyway, after carefully toweling Kent off, smoothing the new bandage over the stitches, once, twice, three times, and then pressing a soft kiss to it. Kent's eyes flutter shut.

After he dries himself off, cursory, Kent's waiting, they head back into the bedroom. "Lie down," Swoops says. "On your stomach."

He watches as Kent climbs onto the bed, watches as he pillows his head in his arms, watches as Kent's eyes close, trusting Swoops completely to do whatever he wants.

He feels the warmth bloom in his chest like it always does, and pulls a bottle from his collection, grabs a towel. 

Swoops goes over to the bed and climbs on himself, kneeling over Kent, and then clicks open the cap, pouring the oil into one palm and rubbing his hands together, warming it up. He presses his hands to Kent's shoulders and starts to work him over, shoulders and neck to back and sides, ass, legs and feet. Kent is quiet except for breathy sighs, every inch content and relaxed. He goes easily when Swoops has him turn over, and Swoops gives the same attention to his chest, skirting his fingers over his stomach, rubbing at his hips, each arm, his legs and feet again. Eventually he pays the same careful, gentle attention to Kent's dick, jacking him off in strong, slow pulls, until Kent comes with a gasp, falling back to the bed completely boneless. Swoops wipes off his hand and crouches over Kent again, lacing their fingers together, licking into his mouth with soft, sweet kisses.

"Mm," Kent murmurs after Swoops has taken care himself, dropped the used towel over the side of the bed. After Swoops has tugged the covers over them both, after Swoops has wrapped himself around Kent. "Feel better?"

"So much better," Swoops says quietly. "Thank you."

"Mm-hm." Swoops knows that Kent still doesn't completely get why Swoops thanks him every time, but he's come to accept it, just like Kent accepts everything else about him. "G'night."

Swoops presses a kiss to Kent's hair. "Sleep well." 


End file.
